Page 10 of Three Months Yesterday

“Don’t say that,” Aaron rushes to say.

He’s got some weird superstition about people saying they’re burned-out never returning to who they were before they took a step back and panics anytime someone makes the slightest mention of being anything less than 100 percent. I get where he’s coming from, it’s happened to him at least once before with an artist he used to represent, but sometimes a break is necessary. And sometimes, that break is exactly what you need to show you what’s truly important.

Life is crazy enough when you don’t add fame to the equation, but take away any form of privacy, and fame becomes a large cost that isn’t always worth it.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Regardless, I need this time away from the city and all the expectations surrounding me there. I’m exactly where I need to be, and that’s all you’re going to get.”

“I’ll have a word with Ian,” Aaron mumbles, but the words are still clear as day.

There isn’t really anything for me to say in response, so I keep my mouth shut, focusing on the open road before me. In the distance I can see the beginning of a small neighborhood I know will lead me back to the center of town, but on both sides of me are open fields with rolling hills making me feel like I’m lost in the middle of nowhere…and other than being back at The Lantern Inn or in the center of town, I can’t think of a better place to be.

The only downside is the sound of clicking coming through the speakers, reminding me I’m still on the phone with my manager.

“Did you need anything else?” I ask, wanting to be done with this conversation.

“How long are you out of pocket?” Aaron murmurs begrudgingly.

“I wasn’t planning on returning to the city until absolutely necessary.”

“You and I have a different definition of what that means.”

“Well, let me put it this way, the tour doesn’t start until mid-March and rehearsals start a little before that, so that’s when I’ll be back in the city.”

“And until then…” His words trail off, clearly in hopes I’ll spill the information he wants.

“Aaron, you know me better than that. I’m not telling you where I am.”

“Beckett, why do you always make things so difficult?” I know Aaron keeps talking, but I don’t focus on him, not when the town comes back into view.

There’s a part of me that wants to just hang up and play like I’ve lost service or something, and maybe that’s not a terrible idea, but my parents raised me better than that. Instead, I pull the 4Runner into an open spot a few blocks down from the town center and sit back in my seat, waiting for Aaron to finish his diatribe.

He’s not actually looking for me to respond anyway; he just wants to make sure I’m aware he’s unhappy I went against his wishes.

Joke’s on me, I guess, I’m more than aware how upset he is—I just don’t care.

I can’t remember that last time I truly did something for myself.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true.

There was a time I was selfish in every decision I made, doing only what I wanted and forgetting about everyone else in the process. I never missed a required engagement or show, but there were appearances I made where I wasn’t the best version of myself, and there were shows I played where I would have been angry I paid for a ticket if I’d been in the audience.

Even with those missteps, my fans have always turned out for me and forgiven my mistakes.

I often wonder if I’d take those years back if I could, but I’ve never been able to come up with a solid answer. Who knows where I’d be in life if I hadn’t made those decisions—and right now I know I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Getting off the phone with Aaron takes longer than I want, but I eventually manage and step out of the car. I’m tempted to leave my phone behind but I don’t want to miss the call from Madison telling me the cottage is ready. I’m sure I’ve got a few hours to kill before there’s even a possibility of receiving that call, but I’m already eager to return. Even if I’m excited to explore the town too.

Without giving it much thought, I head back in the direction of the town center. I have no idea which way I’ll go from there, but it’s near lunch time and that restaurant on the corner called my name the moment I saw it.

There’s a slight chill in the air, but that doesn’t stop my steps from slowing the moment I start walking. Nor does it stop the people from milling around town.

It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and people move in and out of shops, laughing with their friends and family. I wish the slight pang in my chest didn’t exist at the sight, but it does. I recognize the feeling for exactly what it is—sadness.

There’s a massive part of me that’s grateful it’s not jealousy coursing through me when I see families having a good time together. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine that being the main feeling, but I wouldn’t wish missing out on happy times with family on my worst enemy. I know how lucky I was to have the family I did for the first twenty years of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Without realizing it, I’ve made it back to the center of town, and Liberty Tavern is right in front of me. The brick facade of the building is no different than any other historic town, and the large front windows provide an unobstructed view for people walking by and for customers inside.

Stepping through the door is almost like traveling back in time. I can’t know it for sure, but I imagine the layout is the same it’s always been if the large stone hearth off to the side is any indication.